


Restless, Eager

by gummycola



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha England, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Omega America, Porn With Plot, Rimming, UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummycola/pseuds/gummycola
Summary: Alfred, a virgin at 20, overcomes his nervousness and sleeps with his stupid, sexy, awful, wonderful alpha. Finally.





	Restless, Eager

Alfred couldn’t hear the TV over the sound of the air conditioner, but he was too lazy to get up and find the remote. Besides, every time he stood up he felt his stomach drop in nervousness. Even lying on the couch, trying to melt into the cushions while watching Guy Fieri eat pork sandwiches couldn’t quell the flutter in the middle of his chest. Alfred sank a little further into the too-hot fabric of the ratty couch, suppressing a shiver.

He poked his phone. 7:21 PM. Any minute now.

The throw pillow smelled like the weird garlic and herb chips Mattie was obsessed with. Had he been wiping his hands on it? He’d totally been wiping his hands on it. Ugh, that was so gross! And he’d bitched Alfred out just the other day for leaving his dirty socks on the floor in their room. This was way worse than that! What would his pretty girlfriend think of him smearing his greasy hands on a throw pillow? Alfred reached for his phone again, ready to interrupt Mattie’s date with an annoying text, when he heard the knock on the door.

Oh, he was totally going to throw up. His heart was pounding way too fast. So uncool.

The knock sounded again, firm and precise, as Arthur always knocked, though he was rarely so impatient. Alfred left his phone on the coffee table and shuffled toward the door, overcome with an uncharacteristic meekness. He took a fortifying breath and opened the door.

Arthur stood straight-backed on the other side, a duffel bag on his right shoulder. The handle was too short, and the bag was stuck beneath his armpit awkwardly. He raised his eyebrows briefly in consideration before smiling and tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Alfred just looked at him, his stomach somewhere around his knees and his face already beginning to flush. God but he was uncool, unkempt and totally not in control of this situation. Arthur had on his stupid black girl jeans and a dumb, sexy T-shirt that Alfred had bought him when he’d gone to Myrtle Beach. It had a pastel dolphin on it.

“Can I come in?” Arthur wasn’t even trying to keep the amusement out of his voice, and Alfred frowned at him as he stepped aside and let his boyfriend into the apartment. He closed the door too hard behind him and suppressed an urge to lean against it and throw his hand against his forehead in dramatic anxiety. Though he was feeling a little dramatic, and a lot anxious.

Arthur sauntered into the apartment and tossed his duffel onto the couch, following after it just as gracelessly. He curled his long legs into himself and tugged off his boots before putting his socked feet up on the coffee table. The very picture of cool contentment. _Jackass_.

“Make yourself at home.” Alfred said, then wondered why he’d said it.

Arthur had the remote (where had he got it from?) and grunted at him as he began flicking through the channels. He glanced up at Alfred, who was dying quietly, upright in the middle of the living room, and patted the spot beside him.

“Come here, love.”

Alfred studied the spot for a moment, planned his next move, executed his walk from the middle of the room to the couch flawlessly. _So far so good_ , he figured, and he tucked himself against Arthur as he usually did, relaxing the smallest, tiniest bit when Arthur pulled him closer, resting a hand against his hip.

He was close enough to smell him now. Musky, young alpha smell, made a little sharp and smoky by cologne. It mixed well enough with his scent, though Alfred preferred him without it. Still, he smelled no nerves, no lust, no _anything_. _Seriously, what a jackass._

Arthur settled on a comedy program, some sitcom or other that Alfred could never remember the name of. The alpha turned and buried his nose into his hair, breathing in slowly, and Alfred moved a little closer, stretching an arm across Arthur’s stomach.

“Hmm. How was your day?” Arthur asked him quietly, rubbing at the bit of Alfred’s back he could reach.

“Was okay. Didn’t do much.”

“Mm. You didn’t respond to my text earlier.” His voice was light, but Alfred knew he expected an answer.

Alfred rolled his eyes. “It was a stupid question.”

Arthur stopped breathing in his dandruff long enough to pull back and give him a very unimpressed look.

“Well, it was. I already gave you an answer.”

Arthur sighed. He sat up, putting his feet flat on the floor before reaching for Alfred’s legs and pulling them into his lap, turning the omega to face him.

Alfred was red as a beet, he just knew it. Still, he met his boyfriend’s eyes with his own narrowed ones, knowing his scent was giving everything away.

“Alfred, I know you’re sick of my worrying, but you don’t seem terribly eager. I’m just trying to do this right.” Arthur reached for his face as he spoke, no doubt feeling the heat in his cheeks as he rubbed a thumb against them. He could probably even feel his heartbeat.

Alfred closed his eyes, breathed in, breathed out. The fake audience for the sitcom on TV said “Ooh.”

“Alf—”

“I can’t sleep, Artie.” He’d started whining already, fuck. “I—I’m like, I don’t know. I’m still scared, and it’s gonna suck—you’re not gonna—I’m gonna suck. I mean I have to suck cause I’m 20 and I can’t—I’ve never—”

Arthur tugged him into his lap completely, peppering his face and neck with kisses, and Alfred grunted unhappily, thumping Arthur’s chest lightly when he heard the alpha try to suppress a quiet laugh.

“Arthur, we have to. I _need_ to.”

That silenced the giggles completely, and Arthur went still, face planted in Alfred’s neck. Which he then licked. _Oh._

“Need to.” Arthur repeated.

“Uh-huh.”

Arthur slid his long nose from Alfred’s shoulder to his hairline, just above his ear. “Need to what?” he asked flatly, his breath heating up Alfred’s flushed skin even further.

Alfred squirmed and nearly jolted in surprise when he felt a tiny drop of slick slide down his backside. The fake audience laughed, and Alfred wiggled his way out of Arthur’s grip to reach the remote.

It was too quiet now, and Arthur was watching him expectantly as Alfred fiddled with the remote, his legs still sitting across the other’s lap.

“Aren’t alphas supposed to be, like, all gung-ho?” Alfred muttered, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. “Shouldn’t you be like, ‘I’m gonna eat you up’? And then you cart me off to the bedroom?” He finally looked up and offered the other a shy smile.

Arthur smiled deviously in return, running one hand along Alfred’s legs as he began leaning toward him. He hovered close, holding the other’s gaze. His smile slid into a fond smirk and he started thumbing Alfred’s face again.

“I’m all for carting you off and having my wicked way, darling, but I can barely _touch_ you right now. I just want to be sure—”

“I _told_ you I was ready! I _am_ —I can’t _be_ anymore ready than this, Art.” Alfred felt his stress and frustrations crowding in, threatening to push Arthur away, to put distance between them. “You can’t expect me to be—to be _calm_ about this because _I’ve never done it!”_

Alfred hated raising his voice. He was loud, sure. He laughed loudly and shouted at his video games and swore when he stubbed his toe—but he hated raising his voice at another person, at his alpha, who he knew was just worried—had been worried from the moment Alfred had admitted what he wanted.

Arthur let him get it out of his system, cooled his overheated cheeks with a kiss, took a shaking hand in a solid grip. Alfred still felt his anxiety bubbling up and belched out a whiny “It’s like a catch 22—”

“Hush. I understand. I’m sorry.”

_What a stupid, cool, sexy jackass_ , Alfred thought. He flopped into the couch cushions and gave Arthur’s fingers an appreciate kiss.

They sat in silence for a moment, just holding hands as Alfred worked on calming his heart. The AC had kicked on again, and Alfred let the whirring of it fill his head with fuzz.

Arthur turned away to dig around in his duffel, and Alfred tried not to react as he watched him place a bottle of lubricant and a few condoms on the coffee table.

“I got some too.” He murmured, staring at the bright blue box on the table.

“Did you?” Arthur paused as he lifted his shirt over his head— _oh god oh fuck oh no—_ “Well, we’ll make use of them eventually.” God, he was cool as a cucumber and he’d changed into a—into a _tank top._

He didn’t return the shirt to the bag—instead, he dropped it onto Alfred’s face. Alfred breathed in cologne and unwashed shirt longingly before throwing it at the back of Arthur’s head.

“You never wash anything.”

Arthur ignored him. He stood up to peel his tight-ass jeans off his legs, standing awkwardly on one leg as he yanked them off his ankle.

“Seriously. You can be all like ‘I’m saving water’ and ‘You wash your clothes too much’ but like, ew. You and Francis. You guys never wash anything.”

Arthur had replaced his girl jeans with girl sweat pants. He turned to Alfred with a frown, hands on his hips.

“Alright, love, first of all, _I_ wash _your_ clothes more often than you bloody do.” He settled a knee on the couch as he spoke, and Alfred regarded his confident stance with half amusement, half desire.

“Second…” He braced an arm next to Alfred’s head, looming over him, and Alfred—Alfred liked that, yes, that was good.

“How many _fucking_ times have I told you not to compare me to _Francis_?”

Alfred snorted giddily, and Arthur took his cue to pounce, straddling the other with one leg braced on the floor. Alfred was trapped, totally helpless against his tickles and kisses.

They struggled briefly until Arthur started nipping at him with intent, and Alfred let him, encouraged him, exposing his neck and arching a little with a sigh. They’d done this, they’d done plenty of this and more. They just had to take it that teensy, enormous bit further.

Alfred sat up as Arthur began tugging at his shirt, but he didn’t lie back again—he didn’t want to get the garlic and herb ick on his bare skin. Arthur was still leaning over him, one arm on the cushion and the other braced on the back of the couch. They locked eyes, their faces only a couple of inches apart.

Alfred reached up, shyly thumbed along Arthur’s jaw. He’d lost the scent of cologne when he switched shirts and Alfred tentatively nudged his nose against his neck—yep, that was Arthur alright. Clean, comforting, permanently horny. He smelled good.

“H’okay.” Alfred puffed out against his neck. Arthur moved to sit, hands skimming across Alfred’s sides.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred’s safety goggles were on his nightstand. Why were they on his nightstand? His Chapstick wasn’t on there, but his safety goggles were. A cup of water and a box of condoms and a purple-capped bottle were there too.

Alfred tried not to think about it too much and thought about it too much. The journey from the couch to the bed had been easy, natural, fun. Arthur had distracted him by trying to eat his tongue out of his skull—the nervousness only re-appeared when Arthur left him alone to fetch the aforementioned items.

Now Arthur was in the bathroom and Alfred was watching himself in the reflection of his safety goggles, nibbling at his dry lips.

“Alright, love?” Arthur pulled at one of his toes playfully before climbing over him and greeting him with an open-mouthed kiss.

Alfred tried to relax into it but his heartrate wouldn’t let him. He nodded anyway.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

His alpha gave him one of his rare eye-crinkling smiles. He leaned in until their noses were touching and began to paw at Alfred’s chest.

“If at any point you’re not, you will tell me immediately, right?” It wasn’t actually a question. Rather, it was an instruction from an alpha who knew the right tone to use to get what he wanted.

Alfred nodded again and leaned up to catch Arthur’s bottom lip in his teeth, biting down a little. He was rewarded with a soft growl and a hard kiss. He felt Arthur’s hands slide down his chest to his hips.

Breaking the kiss, Arthur paused a final time, gazing into Alfred’s eyes with an expression the omega couldn’t quite place—though the alluring, heavy smell of arousal which was beginning to build in the room gave him some insight. Arthur buried his head into Alfred’s neck and began licking and sucking in earnest, and Alfred—Alfred was finally losing it. He closed his eyes and panted, lifted his hips as Arthur slid his joggers down, arched his naked body into him.

“ _Heaven help me_.” Arthur muttered as he sat up and looked Alfred over. Alfred watched his chest rising and falling sharply and realized with some irritation that his alpha was most definitely _not_ naked. Before he could even move to remedy this, however, Arthur had stripped and settled himself happily between Alfred’s not-quite-spread legs. His pale skin was flush all over, and Alfred reached out to tentatively palm his trim, hairy chest.

Long-fingered hands, rough from hours of plucking guitar strings, slid over the inner curve of Alfred’s thighs. He shuddered, closed his eyes, let Arthur part his legs and lift them, bending his knees. But Arthur lifted them further, curled Alfred back until his knees were hooked over his shoulders, and Alfred yelped even as his body betrayed him with a throb and a surge of heat in his bottom.

“God, you smell good.” Arthur said, and that was all the warning Alfred got before his boyfriend _buried his face in his ass like he was in a fucking pie eating contest what the f—_

“Art!”

“What?” Arthur asked with all the innocence of a demon. “Say, have you been doing what I asked?”

Alfred wiggled his hips until Arthur sat them down and frowned. “What do you mean? You haven’t asked me to—”

“What I asked you to do weeks ago. When you told me you wanted this. The stretching—”

“Ugh! Yes!” Alfred covered his face. His hips were twitching. Arthur smelled _so incredible_ but he was _such a jackass._

“Good boy.” Arthur purred, and he lifted Alfred’s hips once more, ran his hands along his sensitive sides, licked and sucked along his inner thigh. Alfred braced himself with one arm behind his head and slid the other into Arthur’s hair.

Alfred realized he was holding his breath and released it in an embarrassed whoosh of Arthur’s name as the other licked from his balls to the tip of his cock.

Arthur gazed at him seriously before lowering him to the bed and leaning forward. He pinched his nipples _hard_ and Alfred yowled, clawing at his back and panting. Holy shit, he’d never been this wet, never, had never been in a room where every chest-burning, head-spinning gulp of air was drenched with alpha pheromone. Arthur licked him with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the force with which he squeezed his chest a second time and Alfred sobbed. He twisted his hips desperately, felt Arthur’s rigid cock against his own.

“You’re so bloody _perfect_. You’re not even in heat and I can’t control myself.” Arthur whispered, cupping his face and kissing him softly.

Alfred winked at him.

They stared at each other a moment more before they both began to laugh, hiccupping, tension-relieving chirps from Alfred and deep, breathless chuckles from Arthur. Knocking their foreheads together, Alfred let himself feel a little bold, a little overconfident, a little like himself.

“ _Fuck_ me, Arthur.”

Arthur smirked, tongued at an incisor. “I believe you expected me to, ah, _eat you up_.” He slid an arm beneath him and flipped him like a pancake, kissing along his spine.

“Mm. Does eating me up include putting your cock in me?” Alfred managed. Arthur was prying his legs apart again.

Alfred jumped as he felt Arthur’s words breathed out against his ass. “Eventually. Get on your knees.”

Alfred shook his head, glared at Arthur over his shoulder. “I’m not a goddamn cow. Fuck me face-to-face.”

Arthur seemed to be distracted. He was huffing all around Al’s ass like a dog and stroking himself. Alfred felt kind of bad about how hot it made him. “M’ not putting it in yet. You’re not ready. Let me lick you. Get on your knees.”

“Lick me?”

“Yes.”

“Like you—lick my. You want to _lick_ me. My—”

“I’m going to eat your tight little arsehole, love. Now, _bend your bloody knees.”_

Alfred regarded him incredulously. Arthur growled, rolled his eyes, and parted his cheeks to swipe his tongue against his backside and Alfred—Alfred bent his knees, propped his ass in the air and fisted the pillow.

“ _Very_ good boy.”

“Shut ahhp! Ah!” Arthur held him open and began to lick and suck at him in earnest. Alfred relaxed his body but couldn’t stop gritting his teeth to keep from screaming. It made him light-headed though, and when he opened his mouth to gulp in air he whined appreciatively.

Somehow, in the midst of being pleasured to the point of drooling, stupefied ecstasy, Alfred’s overactive brain managed to remind him that this was _Arthur_. Arthur, his finnicky, uptight, overprotective boyfriend, who embroidered and cried during Disney movies. Arthur, his alpha, who despite having a reputation for being a bit of a slut had waited for Alfred patiently, without complaint for _a year._

Arthur owned an ironing board. He hung it next to his Stratocaster. He had his tongue inside of him.

All good things come to an end, however, and Arthur was at his limit. When he leaned away, touching himself again, his voice was hoarse.

“Have to—going to stretch you. On your back?”

Alfred managed, miraculously, to roll himself over and bend his legs. He watched Arthur uncap the lube and rub it between his fingers. He wondered if they even needed it. He felt high almost, happy and tingly. He felt a strange urge to say thank you, but he was pretty sure that was just the result of being such a sap.

“Hey.”

Arthur looked at him. He was sweating, unsmiling, taut with the needs built into his nature. He touched Alfred gently and pressed in without warning, transfixed.

Alfred breathed through it, smiled. “I love you.”

Green eyes regarded him thoughtfully. He added a second finger and began to rock them slowly. “I love you too, my sweet.”

They lived through the preparation, lived through the next few minutes, lived in the stasis created by mingled breath and mutual understanding prior to time becoming split into the before, when there was space between them, and after, when _Alfred_ was split and there wasn’t any space between them anymore.

Then, both of them _might_ have died. A little.

It hurt, kind of a lot, but it was _really, really_ good, like going for a run when it’s super cold out. It burns, sometimes so much so it brings tears to your eyes, but you keep moving until your mind is a pleasant, clear, white-hot thrumming. Just fluff.

Alfred’s brain was fluff already, then Arthur, who couldn’t exhale without grunting like a boar, moved up and shifted Alfred’s legs just so, pressing in deep, and Alfred’s mind was less a blanket of white and more a colorless backdrop for explosions.

“Ya-es! Yes! Ah-tha. Ahhhrrthurrr.”

Arthur continued fucking him for several long, glorious minutes, hips like a piston, his balls slapping against Al’s backside, while Alfred made all kinds of pathetic noises and pulled and pushed on his shoulders.

“My love. My sweet. Mine. _Mine_.” Arthur was panting nonsense. His movement lost a little grace and rhythm, and he wrapped a hand around Alfred, who—who came, shouting, almost instantaneously.

Arthur watched him with pure adoration. “Jesus. Very, very good boy, indeed.” Alfred just chanted at him, _jackass, jackass, jack-ahh!_ Until Arthur finished, stuttering Alfred’s name before his body went lax, sated.

There was silence, both of them collecting themselves, then Arthur jolted as Alfred clapped his hands in delight.

“Yay! We did it! Ahahaha! Woo!” He was grinning, and Arthur could see tear tracks in the crease of his eyes as he smiled.

Arthur snorted, eased his way out of him and managed not to teeter as he stood. “Daft twit.” He tossed the condom and surveyed the mess he’d made of his omega—a few bruises along his neck, semen drying on his stomach, expression one of blissful stupidity. _Perfect_ , he thought, and he made for the bathroom to get something to clean up with.

“Where ya goin’?” Alfred asked, sitting up and disturbing the mess on his stomach—ew. “Hey, gimme a washcloth.”

Arthur returned, handed him the washcloth and flopped face first into the bed.

They settled in for a cuddle, Alfred babbling about a video game and class and some sort of snack Matthew had taken a liking to. Arthur just brushed his hands through his omega’s hair, inhaled the scent of their sex on his skin with smug satisfaction.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep tonight, love?” He asked at last, flicking Alfred’s nose.

Alfred glared at him a little before pressing himself to his chest and looking up at him with wide blue eyes.

“Don’t you wanna keep me up?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this way too much lately. It was supposed to be a one-off deal while I work on some stuff for Dandelion- sorry to everyone who is waiting for updates on that. I'm a grad student and things get tough sometimes, but I'm here, I'm working hard, and I appreciate you, your patience and your encouragement so stinkin' much.
> 
> And if you have no idea what I'm talking about and came to read some porn, I appreciate you too. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all had fun reading it. If you did, maybe drop a comment? Thank you for your support in any case. :)


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